A Shadow Past
by Fiyeraaron
Summary: He had been given many cases in the past, but he never expected anything like this.
1. Chapter 1

It had started out as a job. He was used to it by now, so it wasn't like it was a big deal to just do _one more job _for the guy. In fact, he had jumped at the opportunity. To him, it was easy, and it was an extra €25000 in his pocket, so he couldn't have accepted any faster.

He had been employed by the Viscount many times before. Some guy who his girlfriend was supposedly making eyes at (that had been €30000 straight in his pocket), a long lost cousin who was spreading rumours about the family's affairs (a big fat €27500 for that one), and now this new assignment. If it was going to be the same as the others, it would be a breeze.

Of course, he hadn't always been in this business. No, he had once made a great name for himself in the world of architecture, and had wanted to pursue his natural talent. That was, until he moved to Paris to try and study more there. He had thought about building an opera house, but his plan was quickly foiled when he had gotten into this particular craft.

This new ploy, though, had caught him out. He had never been given the case of a woman before. After he had agreed and was given the file of numbers, pictures, and information of the young woman, he had considered declining the offer for a short while. He hadn't dared look at anything else yet, not at the pictures, not at the connections and likely whereabouts, just the name. It was circled in red ink on the front of the file, glaring up at him, underlined several times. It seemed to haunt him, if only for about five seconds.

He tried it out on his tongue and felt his mood lift significantly, even in the dirty alley way he stood in, gazing at the name through the dim light of the street lamp.

_"Christine Daaé." _

* * *

He had taken the file home that name and stared at it from across the table. He should look at it, he almost felt like he needed to- like he physically had to find out more about this woman. But then when he thought more about it, he remembered what it was he was supposed to do to her, how he shouldn't get attached. After all, he had never had a problem with attachments before- he had never loved anyone and nobody had ever loved him, it was simple. Why should this girl be any different?

But then he thought about her name and how the consonants seemed to roll of his tongue so effortlessly, and how when he said it, he whispered it with such natural softness- he had almost said it as thought it were a prayer, like it was a dainty object that must be cared for with the utmost respect and kindness. It was curious how he could feel such a strong pull towards such a silly thing such as _a name_ when he could commit the worst of crimes without so much as a heartbeat.

He reached out quickly, grabbing the file and opening it, dragging it closer to him and inspecting the information. He involuntary smiled when he read the name again, this time in black print writing at the top of the page. Underneath, the sheet told him her age, family members, occupation, and the reason for this case.

She was a mere seventeen years old. He was expected to carry out such an act on a woman half the age of him. His heart started to thump loudly in his ears.

Both her mother and father, deceased. No other known relatives. He frowned. His palms started to sweat.

She was a singer; an opera singer, to be precise. He started to breath heavily. Of course she would choose the profession that he admired and cherished the most in the cold world he lived in.

His heart dropped and the colour drained from his awfully hot face when he saw the print underneath the underlined title; 'reason for case'.

'_Mademoiselle Daaé is currently courting my brother; Raoul, vicomte de Chagny. This must be stopped_.'

Through his racing mind, he could only come up with one reason for this- the fact that she was an opera singer, an occupation and social status that would not be expected for a Vicomtesse. It was appalling, yet he was supposed to carry this out regardless of the reason. He had done it before, why was this one particular woman making him rethink his employment?

* * *

**I don't even know where this came from. This is obviously an AU. I don't own anything except for the storyline. If you think this is an awful plotline, please tell me so I can stop tricking myself into thinking I can write. If you do like it, sorry this is so short- I really just wanted to see if anybody would read this, so please tell me if you would like to see more, it will really motivate me to carry this on. Thanks for reading! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

He supposes it was his childhood that made him fall into the hitman business. He had been taught that he was a monster, that if a person even looked at him, they would be scarred for life. Because of that, he thinks, he may have thought it was a fitting job. To scare someone out of their wits with just his appearance, and then to end their life.

He didn't particularly like it. Of course, his real passion was music (the contrast always makes him give a sharp smirk), and he had once wanted to become a composer. In fact, he still composes in his spare time, but can never find anyone to actually come near him, nevertheless sing his music.

It was because of this, his racing mind tells him, that he finds himself so compelled to meet Christine Daaé.

After reading the general information about her, he had moved onto the rest of the file. Details of where she may be found, her past (she was originally from Sweden), her personality. It described her as a gentle, kind young woman. A smirk formed on his face. He didn't think those two traits could be found in any human being, never mind a famous opera singer.

Lastly, he came to an unsealed white envelope. He felt inside and retrieved several pieces of squared card. Turning them over, he gasped audibly in the silent room. They were pictures.

The photo looked like it had been taken professionally, as she was on stage and the shot gave a clear view of her entire body. The brown curls that framed her face and reached her waist looked soft, and they were accentuated by the green and red dress she was wearing. Her face was dainty, her mouth stuck in an 'o' shape, obviously in the middle of a presumably impressive note. Her eyes were large and brown, and the incomparable youth and wonder she possessed in them was unmistakable.

The other pictures were similar. Her in different costumes, always on stage. He found himself grinning, a phenomenon that hadn't occurred in a very long time and shocked him so much he had to force a grimace onto his face.

"Oh, god," he whispered as he leant back in his chair, his head lolling back as he tried to make sense of the situation he was faced with.

He was a natural at this- murdering people for money, he found it easy and his quick mind usually came up with flawless plans and tactics that would make himself or his employer look guiltless. But this woman, this _Christine Daaé_, something about her made him want to let her live. He had never had second thoughts about killing people before, and he frowned when he realised that it must be because she was a female. He felt pity for her, obviously. She didn't deserve to die, not just because her soon to be brother-in-law disapproved of her engagement.

But he still had to do it. He couldn't disobey the viscount. He knew how ruthless he was. In fact, he himself could find himself murdered if he didn't go through with it. He sighed. It wasn't fair. Unfortunately, he couldn't pinpoint what it was that was unfair about the situation. After all, he had done this many times before.

Eventually, he settled to go and see her perform first. See if there was anything he could hate about her, something that would justify him killing her. A weak note, a quiver in her voice, anything.

Yet, just from the pictures, he knew that he would find nothing.

* * *

"Oh, sorry, sir."

He grumbled. That was the third time someone had bumped into the back of his head as they walked behind his seat. Every time, he turned to them, gave them a vicious sneer, a full view of his mask, and they scampered away with a look of horror on their faces. He chuckled.

He was sat in the theatre, a full central view of the stage. He had booked out the two seats either side of him too, just to ensure he was as alone as possible as he surveyed the girl.

He was expecting her to be good. Looking through the programme, he understood that she was the prima donna of the show. Impressive.

He looked around, seeing that the theatre was probably sold out, or close enough to it. He lifted his eyebrows- how had he not heard of this, especially seeing how popular it seemed?

The lights turned down and everyone went quiet. Suddenly, the curtain opened, a single spotlight on the stage, and she was there.


	3. Chapter 3

People were moving around him, that he was sure of. His mind was blank and all he could hear was the faint sound of muffled talking and the rustling of material. His legs felt numb. Thank god he booked out the seats next to him because he was sure that he was about to break the arms of them just because he was squeezing them so hard.

He was in a daze. The only thing he could possibly think of was her name. It was being repeated over and over in his mind. Let it suffice to say that he was not expecting what he saw and heard.

She was a star. A true prima donna. It was phenomenal to watch. As soon as she had begun her opening aria he was spellbound. He was bewitched and he wasn't even going to deny it. How could such an amazing voice come from such a small, dainty person?

The lights were all up and people were filing from the room as he thought to himself and attempted to make himself move, however, he could not draw up the willpower to stand up and walk away from the place he had first seen her. In fact, he doesn't think he moved since the curtains opened, even when people tried to walk in front of him to get to their seats.

It wasn't until he was prodded by a young man with wide, fearful eyes and a squeaky voice that he actually moved his head to the side.

"Er, e-excuse me, s-sir, but the-the theatre is closing n-now, sorry." He could literally see the boy quivering.

He rolled his eyes and stood up without saying anything. He felt like he hadn't used his limbs in about twenty years when he tried to put one foot in front of the other, so while he took large strides behind the attendant, he had a frown on his face.

Once he had safely left the theatre, he took in a deep breath. It was astounding how cool the outside felt once accustomed to the stuffy atmosphere of the opera. He turned to the left side where he could hear excited chattering, seeing a large group of people waving pieces of paper and pens towards a gap in the middle of the herd. He gasped to himself when he distinguished what they were saying.

"Christine! Christine, can we get a picture?"

"You were amazing tonight, Miss Daaé!"

"Could you please sign this, Christine?"

He took three long steps without even noticing, and had to stop himself when he was about 3 more strides away from the group of screaming people. Was this really a wise decision? To go and speak to this woman, the very woman he was supposed to _take care of_, especially after what he had just seen- a performance that had made even his stone cold heart crumble?

Nevertheless, he moved forward and stood just behind the group, taking extra care not to run the risk of touching anyone. The group was getting more rambunctious and loud as he stood there and when one stepped back and bumped into his chest, he knew nothing good could come from it. It was a young girl (of course), about 15, black hair and red painted lipstick. She turned and looked at him, an apologetic look on her face and, no doubt, an 'I'm sorry' poised on her lips. But, naturally, her face changed quickly. A terrified look took over her face quickly and she opened and closed her mouth a few times, her entire body grinding to a complete halt as she stood and gaped at him. He would like to say he was used to this kind of reaction, but the embarrassment came in abundance when, over the course of about fifteen seconds, the entire group had stopped screaming and was looking at him with equal looks of fear and disgust. Seriously, he wore the mask for a reason, how were they looking at him with hatred? They would all have ran off by now if he took the cold porcelain off, and he isn't even ashamed to admit he contemplated it for a few moments.

Then, just like usual, the whispering began. 'What _is_ that?', 'oh my god, what do you think is under that mask?', 'should we call the police?'- it was always the same. He sighed and looked around.

He watched as a few people left, cautiously shuffling down the road in pairs and threes, sneaking looks at him over there shoulders as if to check that he wasn't following them. He rolled his eyes again, why were people so pathetic? It was just a mask. Yeah, his towering height didn't help, sure. And, okay, maybe the bony, angular body he possessed didn't aid in making him looking friendly and kind. Maybe he should just smile a bit more. Nah.

He looked to the remainders in the group. They were significantly smaller in number, at most about ten people, and they had all crowded in a circle around someone (Christine, he supposed). They were all talking in low voices now, gone was the pushing over people and screaming to see who could get more attention. Two people left and he just stood there for a while, checking his watch every now and again, sighing and watching the cold air react.

He doesn't know how long he spent staring at the sky, but eventually he heard someone clear their throat. He looked away from the sky and gasped when he saw the girl stood in front of him.

She was wearing a large blue coat that came to about her knees, black tights, knee high brown boots and a matching set of green gloves, a scarf, and a hat. He could see the hint of a red skirt underneath her coat, but it was only barely showing from the length of the coat. She was looking at him with a with a small smile on her face and he felt his lips twitch when he saw her cock her eyebrow at him.

"Hi," she had such a heavenly voice, "you've been stood there for a while now. Are you okay?"

He stood up straighter, feeling his entire body heat up and inevitably turn red. "Ye-ah-" he cleared his throat and tried again, "yeah, uh, I just got distracted."

She smiled more and nodded. She looked small compared to the vastness of the wall she stood in front of, and he racked his brain for anything to say.

"You sounded beautiful tonight." He gulped after he said it. Was that too forward?

She blushed prettily and looked to the floor, and he's sure he saw her smile widen. "Thank you, that's very sweet."

He let himself smile. "Tonight was my first time seeing you. It was better than I expected. Though the rest of the cast lacked, if I'm being perfectly honest."

She looked up at him with wide eyes, a hint of amusement deep inside them. "Oh, really?" She sounded like she wanted to laugh and he mentally begged her to do so, he guessed it must sound angelic. "The entirety cast?"

He smirked. "Besides you, of course. Who was that supporting female, the ginger one with the-"

"Carlotta."

"Yeah, that's the one. She sounded like a toad. Seriously, it was abominable. Dreadful to listen to."

That's when she laughed. It was a twinkling sound, and it seemed as though her whole body vibrated as she did so. It caused him to give a chuckle too, and he stopped abruptly when he realised what he was doing. He hadn't laughed in years, especially not at something so harmless.

"Well, I'm not her biggest fan either." She was teasing him, and the edge it gave to her voice was adorable. He just smiled at her, hoping she would speak again.

When she shivered, he decided to speak up. "I'm sorry, were you going somewhere? I can leave, I know it's cold." He had never been this polite in his life.

"Hmm? Oh, no. I'm actually waiting for someone to come and meet me. They did say they may be a few minutes late, but it's been quite a while." She looked around, obviously trying to catch a glimpse of the person.

"Oh, okay. Shall I stay with you until they arrive?"

She smiled a little, but then looked aghast very abruptly. "Not if you need to go somewhere. I'll be fine on my own, they shouldn't be too long." She shook her head and it made her curls bounce and sway around her body.

"Nonsense. I'm having fun anyway." He smiled.

"Me too." She smiled. "Wait, what is your name? We've been talking all this time and I have no idea who you are." She giggled a bit.

Nobody had ever asked for his name before. They just called him degrading names or sneered at him. "E-Erik."

She grinned. "Well, Erik, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Christine Daaé." She teased, holding out her hand for him to shake.

It was dainty and small, and the green gloves that she wore made her look adorable. He took it gently and shook it slowly, making sure not to grip her too hard. Despite the lankiness of his body, he somehow had an amazing strength when he needed it, so he tried to keep it in control.

He unconsciously leant down and kissed her fingers, making sure to pull up quickly in case she tried to draw her hand back in disgust. He put his hands behind his back and tried to smile despite his racing heart that seriously made him want to touch his chest and make sure it wasn't about to escape. To his surprise, she smiled at him and blushed, her eyes looking down bashfully.

"So, you're a gentleman, huh?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"Chris'!"

Her hair spun around, waving through the cold seamlessly, as she turned to look for the voice. As he turned to look as well, he saw a young man, blond haired, about six foot, jogging towards them.

"I am so sorry, Chris', there was a big hold up at work. You know how it is there." As soon as he got to her, the boy leaned in and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She smiled at him and he swears he saw her eyes light up when he touched her.

"Oh, it's fine, really." She turned to look at him, "Erik, here, was keeping me company."

That's when the boy finally looked at him, only noticing his presence now. He visibly saw the boy's eyes widen and his own narrowed eyes darted to the hand he put on Christine's hip, and the slight step forward he took to marginally stand in front of her petite body. He barely contained a sigh.

"Well, thank you, I guess." He nodded slightly at him.

"No, really, the pleasure was mine." He smiled, looking at Christine and not at this protective boy who had a firm clutch on her waist.

The boy lifted his chin. "I'm sure it was."

Christine looked down. "_Raoul_." She whispered it, but it was easy to hear due to the emptiness of the street.

The boy pasted a smirk on his face. "I mean, she's just the greatest fiancée ever, aren't you, Chris'? She sure is a pleasure."

She rolled her eyes and looked up to him, and he could genuinely see the apology in her eyes as she was pulled closer to the grinning boy.

He cleared his throat, taking a step back. "I should go now then." He didn't want to leave. It's not like he had anything or anyone to get home to, nobody was fretting over him, wondering why he was so late. This was the most fun he had experienced in years, and this 'boy' had to come and steal the source of his happiness from him.

"Yeah, us too." The boy nodded, his hand slipping from her waist to her hand. "We've got lots to do, right, Chris'?"

She nodded, a small 'yeah' falling from her lips as she smiled. The boy started striding away, obviously not wanting to waste any more time on him, Christine hurrying to keep up with him. She looked back at him, her hair bobbing as she scurried next to the boy.

She grinned and used her other hand to wave at him. He waved back at her, the smile on his face making his eyes scrunch up, which made his mask even more uncomfortable than usual. The couple turned the corner and he let his hand drop, but the smile still lingered.

Of course this would happen. To be honest, he should have expected it as soon as he saw her name, every possibility was pointing to this occurring. It was just his luck that the one time he developed feelings, the one girl he had unconsciously became infatuated with, was the one person he had been ordered to kill. _Wow_.


	4. Chapter 4

"So how is everything going?"

"With what?"

He knew what. It wasn't like he hadn't been contemplating it over and over in his mind since he had been given the job. But he could still stall as much as possible. He was in the worst possible situation right now, and he wanted to buy as much time as he could.

"You know what."

"Do I?" God, he sounded stupid. He was effectively avoiding the man's eyes as they sat across from each other in the dark office that the Count had. If it weren't for the darkness, he's sure he would be able to see the heavy smoke that was floating out of the cigar his employer was smoking. He took a sip of his whiskey and looked down, swirling it with a motion of his hand.

He heard a slam on the table and sharply looked up to see Phillipe with his fist on the table and a furious expression on his red, lean face. "The godforsaken girl, Erik. Raoul's little play thing, the job you were given." His words were loud and heavy, his perfect teeth accentuating each word.

He opened his mouth and looked down, not daring to look at the frustrated face any longer. Should he just say it? Or should he lie? No, he couldn't lie. This was a situation that he couldn't possibly lie about. Sure, it may work for a few hours, just enough time to flee the country and, hey, you know, maybe take a certain young brunette with him too...

"I can't do it." He was actually surprised with how strong and confident his voice sounded, especially with the way his palms were sweating. At least it was out in the open now, up for discussion.

He heard heavy breathing. That was never good. Especially from a man who had the power to kill somebody so easily and not get blamed in the slightest. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea?

He sneaked a peek through his eyelashes and immediately looked down. The man looked ready to pounce. He heard slight chuckling, a low sound that grated through Erik's ears. "You..." He chuckled some more, "you can't do it?" He took a swig of his drink and raised his voice. "I employed you to get rid of this thing once and for all. You've done it before, why is this common whore anything different?"

Erik unconsciously bristled at that and gritted his teeth before looking up and placing his glass on the over piled desk in front of him. Despite the mask that managed to cover half of his ungodly face, the Count still managed to sense his resentment.

"Oh,"- again with the laughing- " so you, ugly forsaken Erik,"- he said this slowly, deliberately- "have developed a fondness for this hussy. How hilarious this is." He laughed again and Erik had to look down in embarrassment at being so singlehandedly humiliated. The laughing cut through the smoke and pierced Erik's ears, making his heart beat faster and his head start to hurt.

"Look, I'm sorry, De Chagny, but-"

"No." He had stopped laughing altogether now, instead his voice taking on a condescending yet deathly tone. "There's no need to be sorry. After all, you couldn't help it, right?" He was smirking, Erik didn't even have to look up to tell. "But, Erik, surely you see my problem? I mean, I gave you this task as an easy €25000 straight in your pocket, and even you, my most trusted hitman, can't fulfil this. First I lose my beloved brother to this opera rat, the very relationship in fact that I employed you to exterminate, and now I lose you as well? Why, what is a poor Count to do?"

Phillipe stood up then, walking around the room and raking his fingers over several artefacts on the walls around Erik. He could hear the man behind him, and he looked up and braced his shoulders, ready for a fight if needed. After all, Erik was strong and he could outwit the Count any day. But, right now, he needed to get out of this place. He could barely breathe, and the alcohol had only served to make his head hurt more than usual. He couldn't concentrate in a room like this, and the constant, repetitive noise of the Count's fancy shoes clicking around the room was making him go insane.

"I need to leave." He stood up without realising it and immediately regretted doing so when he felt a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down with more force than he thought necessary.

"Oh, you don't need anything, Erik." Phillipe walked around the desk and sat down in his chair, twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. "After all, you know what you are. You know why you're so good at this business." He lit the cigarette. "You're disgusting. See, that's why you don't need anything, Erik. Because you're not worth anything."

Erik lowered his head, his heart dropping in his chest. He had heard all of this before, of course. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt as much as the first time.

"But, more importantly, let's get back to what _I_ need." Erik lifted his head. "You know what this is, and you need to do it. Or else. I don't care about your stupid _feelings_, I don't care what you think you want or _need_. I'll tell you what you want and need. You need to get the fuck out of my office and do what you have been assigned."

Erik didn't need to be told twice. He stood up sharply and turned around, heading straight for the door. He grasped the door handle and, whilst opening the door, heard the man inhale the and exhale the smoke from his cigar. He quickly stormed out of the room. As he walked away, he's sure he could hear chuckling echoing from inside the office.

Exiting the grey building, he had never been so happy to feel the cool night air of Central Paris on his heated face.


End file.
